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They Mattered
by Xander
Title: They Mattered
Author: Xander (Aeolian Angel)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Wilson/House
Categories: Angst, Fluff, Pre-Slash
Spoilers: Only the slightest spoilers for the "Vogler Saga" in the intro
Warnings: Angst, Pre-Slash, Probable OOC-ness, SHORTNESS!
Summary: ...And they really did.
A/N: Did I actually write a drabble? Has hell frozen over yet? (Still no beta x_X)
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"Only you could feel like crap for doing something good."
...
"I figured everything you do, you do it to help people. But I was wrong. You do it because it's right."
...
"I've only got two things that work for me: this job and this stupid, screwed-up
friendship, and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech."
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The shattered pieces of a long-forgotten glass shimmered in the moonlight that flooded an empty apartment, curtains torn down and thrown to the floor in a fit of misdirected anger. A pale silhouette formed around the figures of furnishings that lay haphazardly scattered around the room, kicked and abused while a more eerie, unnatural light seeped in through the crack beneath the bedroom door. That was where House had been for hours and had resolved to remain for hours to come. It was the resolute pounding on his door that jarred him from his depressed stupor and actually provoked him to sit up, and when it stopped, he was almost convinced that it had been a hallucination. The sound of his lock being undone and his door being opened proved to him otherwise.
"House?" Yes, he knew that voice. Hell, he had known who it was from the moment he heard the knocking. What he didn't know was why he was surprised. No matter what he did, his friend always came back. Always. Sweet, caring Wilson.... He really didn't know what he'd do without the other. "Good Lord, House! What the hell happened? ...House?" The brunette carefully weaved his way through messy piles of loose papers and around the broken glass, having to climb over a mass of random, useless items that had been dragged out of the closet before he could get to the bedroom door and cautiously peer in. "Greg?..." he asked gently, and House was actually startled to hear his friend address him in such a soft-spoken voice. "Hey ... what happened?" he repeated, making his way over to the side of the bed and sitting down next to House. "What does it look like? I trashed the place," he answered tactlessly, curling up on his side, facing Wilson. "But why?..." Silence was his only response to that question. What could he say, after all? After what he'd done.... Wilson simply fell silent when he gained no reaction from House and absently took to running his fingers over his friend's shoulder, a gesture that was--unbeknownst to Wilson--of endless comfort to House, and after a few minutes, he did speak again, his voice soft and strained--almost afraid, definitely broken-hearted. "They mattered."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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